Signor Pirelli's Dating Game
by unamuerte
Summary: Mrs Lovett is single and looking for lurrrve. What does she do? Why, go on Signor Pirelli's Dating Game Show of course! Read on to find out who's the most eligible bachelor in Fleet Street!
1. Chapter 1

**SIGNOR PIRELLI'S DATING GAME**

**A/N:** _Hey guys, back with another crazy idea for you weekend amusement! This time, it's an alternate Sweenett universe where Mrs Lovett never met Mr T, went bankrupt and had to move in with Mrs Mooney. It seems she's destined for spinsterhood…until she signs up for a chance for love on Signor Pirelli's Dating Game Show! And yes, I am aware TV was not invented in the 18/19thc. Relax people, it's a bit of good old-fashioned fluff! =D_

Mrs Lovett was sitting at home with Mrs Mooney, skinning their cats for dinner. No, they weren't past-it, has-been lesbian spinsters. But they _were_ spinsters, and they _were _skinning a cat by themselves at 9 o' clock on a Friday night, so evidently, they had a few unresolved personal issues. Mrs Mooney, for example, liked to torture Mrs Lovett. Ever since Mrs Lovett became a widow and her pie-shop went broke, she had moved in with Mrs Mooney across the road. The only way to earn her keep was to complete all the nasty, sordid chores that Mrs Mooney couldn't stand. Such as cleaning out the chamber pots, skinning the stray cats and cooking the darned filthy pussy-cat pies.

It would be an understatement to say that Mrs Lovett _hated _her work. But she had no choice.

"Are ye done with tha' scrawny cat?" Mrs Mooney shrieked from the living room. She had her feet spread across two grubby settees, and half a bottle of gin in her hand. The TV, a small box set, was perched atop a stool with a dodgy leg.

Mrs Lovett shrieked back: "Five minutes more you bleedin' ungrateful toe rag!" She was in the kitchen, skinning a ginger tabby cat, but she could still hear the TV.

"It's that time of the week again," came the voice of the most watched TV show on Fleet Street, "sì, it's your favorito show, by your favorito man, Signor Pirelli's Dating Game!"

A loud cheer erupted from the TV audience, and Mrs Lovett finished up the last of her preparations. She cleaved off the pussy's head, and dumped the rest of it, bones and all, into the boiling pot on the stove. Then she rushed into the living room.

"Blimey," Mrs Lovett sighed, "I'd love to go on tha' show. If only I could snag me a gorg'us, respe'able gen'lemun."

"Dun forget rich!" Mrs Mooney added. "An' 'e's got ta 'ave a fat gut. Tha's 'ow yer tell 'e's rich."

Mrs Lovett frowned. "I already married Albert – rest 'is soul – though 'e was ugly as sin. So if you're expectin' me to go thru tha' again, changin' 'is bed sheets an' fixin' 'is suppa, I'd ratha die a widow. Na, wot I want is a love tha' burns like fire. Th' sort tha' makes you weak thinkin' on it. On 'im that you pine for."

A sudden image popped in Mrs Lovett's head. She didn't know why, but Mrs Lovett thought about the man she'd seen around Fleet Street the past few weeks, the one they called the Barber. She hadn't yet gotten close enough for a proper study, but the brief snatches she'd caught of his handsome figure wandering up and down the street in the early mornings had attracted her to him. "Not tha' it'll e'er 'appen," she said miserably to herself.

"Cheer up dearie," Mrs Mooney said, taking another swig from the gin. "When yer married ter a rich man ye won't 'ave no more chores. You'd 'ave maids to do tha' for ye. In a fairy world," she added, snorting.

Mrs Lovett rolled her eyes. "You missed the point, love."

"Sshh! The show's on!"

The two women fell into complete silence as Signor Pirelli, the handsome, Italian game show host, smiled and gave a delicate bow. Toby, his charming, blond kid side-kick, ran up and down the length of the stage, pumping up the audience to a state of frenzy.

"Toniiiight," Signor Pirelli began, "we have a some bellissimos signores for tonight's lady to choose from! Come, please, Miss Bachelorette!"

A spotlight appeared on stage, waiting for the woman to appear. The audience held their breath, eager and hungry. They waited. Mrs Lovett and Mrs Mooney clutched at the gin bottle. But a minute passed in awkward silence, then another minute.

After three minutes of uncomfortable silence, Toby ran up to Signor Pirelli and whispered in his ear. Signor Pirelli straightened, and with an undeniable grimace, said: "Please a forgive a me my bello audience, but it a seems that ah toniiight's a bachelorette has, how does one say, "done a runner"_. _We are going now to an a commercial, and then, we will have a new sad, desperate – ah, that is, a new, _bellissima _bachelorette!"

Toby ran back to Pirelli, and whispered in his ear yet again.

Pirelli straightened, and resumed his place by the host stand. There were cracks in his smile. "Ah…it appears, we are a going to try a something a _little _bit different this time. But do not be alarmed! There _will_ be a bachelorette! Any sad, lonely, spinsters – I mean, _lovely signorinas _out there in need of a considerate gentleman – please call this number on your screen! If you are a successful in answering the questions we ask you, we will pick you up immediately from your house and take you directly to my estudio. Thrilling, no? So _please, _call now!"

The moment Signor Pirelli's show went to a break, a sudden hissing came from the kitchen. "Oh me lord! The cat!" Mrs Lovett dashed into the kitchen. There was smoke everywhere, and the pot was aflame!

"Stitches and witches!" Mrs Mooney cursed and knocked the gin bottle over in her effort to go after Mrs Lovett.

It took the two of them to put out the flames, and by the time they had finished the kitchen was quite black, and the cat ruined.

"Tha' does it Mrs Lovett," Mrs Mooney said, pointing a finger at Mrs Lovett's weary face, "I want yer on tha' show this minute! Who knows, if yer snag a rich gentlemun, you'll be outta my sight for good!"

It took altogether five minutes for Mrs Lovett to call Signor Pirelli's Dating Show, and answer three key questions, which were as follows: (Note: Mrs Lovett's answers are in bold)

_How old are you?_

a) 15-25

b) 25-39

**c) Old as the Hills**

_When was the last time you had intimate relations with a man?_

a) Twice last night, once this morning.

b) Last week. Every Thursday is the tradition.

**c) Does intimate relations mean having a polite, non-sexual conversation with a member of the opposite sex?**

_What's your idea of a good, decent gentleman?_

a) He must earn above 500 000 pounds. Minimum. Mr Darcy is my model.

b) He must be hard-working, maybe a coal miner. But not one of the seven dwarfs.

**c) Decent? He could be Jack the Ripper for all I care!**

"Thank you for participating in Signor Pirelli's Dating Game," the telephone operator said, "please wait while we process your results."

Mrs Lovett bit her nails while they played some irritating classical music over the phone.

A minute later, Mrs Lovett nearly fainted. "Signorina Lovett," said Signor Pirelli himself, "you – are – the – wiiiinnner!"

Mrs Mooney stared, google-eyed with jealousy. She never once believed Mrs Lovett was _the _most desperate bachelorette in London City!

"Signorina Lovett, are you a still with us?" Pirelli spoke seductively into the phone.

"Yes," Mrs Lovett replied breathlessly. She was staring at the TV, phone cradled in her arm. And there was the famous Pirelli himself, standing by the host stand with his phone, talking to her on live TV!

"If you are ready in five minutes, you will find a coach outside your house waiting to escort you to my wonderful show. And there you will meet our three, desperate – ah, _wonderful _bachelors!"

Mrs Lovett dropped the phone, and ran to the mirror. Burn marks, stain marks, dried dough and flour were caked in her hair, on her clothes and skin.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Blimey!" Mrs Lovett threw it open.

The chauffer sniffed. "This way, Madam. And don't worry about your appearance. Hair and make-up are waiting inside the coach to prepare you."

Could it be true, Mrs Lovett almost sung out loud, could she really be going to meet the man of her dreams?

* * *

_Read on to meet the bachelors! In case you were wondering, toe-rag was a word they really did use! Its Cockney rhyming slang for "slag." _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And I'm back! I'm listening to "Kiss Me" from the 1979 Sweeney Todd. It's so different from the movie, but the song's are awesome. I wish they'd put more of the original songs in the movie! Anyway, on with the story!**

"Ladies and gentlemun," Toby sang, "may I have your attention pleaaasee? Tonight we 'ave someone extra extraoardinary, a woman so special she's out of the ordinary, a real red ripe strawb'rry…"

A spotlight hit the middle of the stage. Toby ran down the side of the stage and drew the curtain aside. "Ladies an' gentlemun, please prepare to be stunned and amazed, I will show you a woman appeared out of the air, a woman whose beauty is marvellous rare." He pointed at the woman shielding her eyes under the spotlight. "That woman there!"

At home, Mrs Mooney grinned, chewing the burnt, ashy leg of Mrs Lovett's badly cooked cat. She was expecting her friend to come on stage in her dusty, dirty rags and filthy, bird nest hair.

"Mrs Lovett," Signor Pirelli purred, leaving his host stand to take her hand, "Please, properly face a the audience so we can see your bellisma self."

Mrs Lovett slowly lowered her hands and went, half-smiling, to the front of the stage. Alright, she thought, so she was humiliatin' 'erself on national tele. But she 'adn't felt this clean an' pretty in a long time!

Mrs Mooney gasped. "You blimey slime-ridden leech!" She shrieked and threw the gnawed cat bone at the TV. "You double-crossin' sow!"

But of course Mrs Lovett couldn't hear her. Mrs Mooney was in fact, carrying on so vehemently because she was jealous. Mrs Mooney hadn't expected her flat mate to be dressed up so gloriously. Mrs Lovett had on a crimson grown fringed with gold lace; neat, crimson kid gloves and bright gold boots. Her fresh, glowing face was framed by henna red, bobbing curls. For a so-called spinster, Mrs Lovett looked a right dish.

"My dear Signorina," Signor Pirelli said, grinning and winking at the crowd, "can it be _true? _They say you are a spinster! But look how lovely you look a tonight!"

"Thank ye, Signor," Mrs Lovett replied. "But I'm indeed wot they says I am…I'm a spinster!"

"Well, well," Pirelli said, leading her to a velvet lined seat next to a purple curtain that divided the stage in half. "A spinster no longer, perhaps? For, pretty signorina, beyond that curtain lies a your three handsome bachelors _dying_ to win a your love."

"An' I'm dying for a seat." Mrs Lovett threw herself down in the chair. "Cor, me tired bones!"

"To-by!" Pirelli clapped his hands. "Raise the other curtain!"

Toby ran across to the other side of the stage, and pulled up the curtain that hid the three eligible bachelors from the audience. Mrs Lovett craned her neck, but she couldn't see past her own curtain.

Mrs Mooney screeched when she saw the bachelors. "It innit!"

"It is," said Signor Pirelli to his audience, as if he could hear her. "Signores and Signoras, I give you, the _bachelors!"_

The audience cooed and screamed.

"Get on wif it!" Someone in front throw shouted, and a second later a smelly fish was hurled onto the stage. It landed square in Pirelli's face.

"Get on wif it!" Mrs Mooney echoed, throwing the rest of her cat bones at the TV.

"So be it you ungrateful tubs of lard – I mean, _my dear audience_. Signora Lovett," Pirelli began again, "take these cards, and with them you may ask your bachelors three questions. Just three, _si_?"

"Bachela numba one," Mrs Lovett read, "you see me walkin' down the street an' think I'm a bit o' alright. Wot do you say ta make me stop an' pay attention?"

"Madam," came the suave, cool voice of bachelor number one. "I would first look upon your golden hair and rosy cheek and praise you as if you were an angel fallen from the heavens. I would say, "dear Lady, I could not stop without being struck in the heart by cupid's bow. Do not desert me without casting a smile or good word in my direction."

"That's all very romantic," Mrs Lovett said, wondering if Bachelor Number One was as sexy as his voice, "but I ain't blonde sir!"

"Forgive me Madam," came the winning voice, "but I am sure whatever colour it be, it has been blessed by the saint's themselves."

"Cor!" Was all Mrs Lovett had to say to that.

"Bachelor Number Two?" Signor Pirelli interjected, "what is your answer?"

Mrs Lovett leaned forward on her throne.

"Madam," came the second, grosser voice, "I saw you leerin' at me across the street. It's a'right, you couldn't help yourself. You noticed my fine self, me clean shaven self, my shaply legs and shaven face. And wot kind of gentlemun would I be if I denied you th' pleasure of lookin'?

Mrs Lovett sat back in her throne, stunned. "I dunno wot chimney you fell down dearie, but you ain't comin' near mine!"

"Bachelor number three," Pirelli said with a furious grin, "What do you say?"

There was silence.

Pirelli tried again. "Bachelor number three? We are on a national television!"

"Speak to me friend," the third voice spoke, in a quiet and haunted manner. "Whisper, I'll listen! My friend!"

"Aww me lord. 'Ow sweet," Mrs Lovett cooed. Something about the third bachelor's voice reeled her in.

Pirelli had had enough. He snatched up Mrs Lovett's card and began to read the next question.

"Oi! No need ta be rude!" Mrs Lovett chided.

"Where," Pirelli continued, ignoring Mrs Lovett, "would you take her on a date? Bachelor Number one, please. And quickly, si!. We need a to cut to a commercial."

Bachelor Number One spoke without hesitation. "I would take the beautiful lady to a quiet masked ball at my charming, homely residence, surrounded by a few close friends. Music will serenade you, my dear, and we will have nothing but the finest sweets and drink. And we will dance, my sweet angel. How we will dance!" he finished seductively.

"Hold up! 'Ow do ya know I'm pretty? You 'aven't even seen me yet! I could be a leper wif one leg and a face worse than me dead 'usband's arse!" Mrs Lovett said. "An' 'ow can a masked ball be quiet an' romantic? Wif all them friends o' yours interrupin' us an' the drinkin' an' the dancin'. It's enough ta make me 'ead spin!"

"Forgive me," Bachelor Number One purred, "I only assumed from the dulcet tones of your sweet voice that its speaker must have the face of an angel. Again, forgive me for my forwardness dear lady, I meant a _private_ little gathering. There need be no music or dancing, if that is your wish. All of it is entirely up to you…what we _do _together."

"First I'm blonde, next I'm an angel!" Mrs Lovett wasn't stupid. "If I didn't no betta, I'd say you was plannin' on gettin' me drunk an' havin' your way wif me. I 'ear a lot of awful stories about them sort o' parties, thank ye very much."

"Enough!" Pirelli commanded. "Bachelor number two! Where will _you_ take her?"

"A den," came the second voice, "an' we'll 'ave a good whiff of the finest asian stuff, an' maybe afta, when you're feelin' more amenable towards me……we might smoke _anotha_ kind of pipe. Wot you say?"

"Hold up! Am I ta think your talkin' about an' opium den? Wot you think I am? One of them floozies you can 'ave yer way wif? Both of youse 'ave rocks in yer 'eads!" Mrs Lovett stood up, and made to tear down the curtain between them and give the bachelors a good ol' public dressing down.

Signor Pirelli ran in front of the curtain and blocked her with his giant form. "Signora, please, you misheard the gentleman. He speaks of something entirely a different. Remember, you are a _spinster_, unwise to the ways of the world."

Mrs Lovett crossed her arms, and stared down the host. "Who said I wos unwise?! I know exactly wot he's on about. He's a puffer. A snorter. A user. A smoker. One of them dazed, drugged up addicts, that's wot 'e is. Just wot kind of a joint are you runnin' 'ere Pirelli?"

"Is it good stuff?" Bachelor Number Two said slimily. "You know Pirelli sir, I'll pay fer th' very best! Only the best for the ladies, y'know." He gave a greasy chuckle.

Pirelli rubbed his temples. Mrs Lovett shuddered, as did most of the women in the audience.

"Pick Bachelor Number One!" Mrs Mooney shrieked from her living room, but of course, Mrs Lovett couldn't hear her. "'e's bloomin' loaded!"

"I think, Bachelor Number Two," Bachelor Number one added ominously, "that you should _silence_ your tongue."

"Now you learn," Bachelor Number Three chimed in, "that the world is nothin' but a hole like a great black pit filled with people who are filled with shit whose morals aren't worth wot a pig could spit."

By now, everyone in the audience was dead quiet. All of them seemed disturbed, except Mrs Lovett. "Sorry love," she yelled at Bachelor Number Three through the curtain, "I'm ahead of you. I learnt that long before I came 'ere. Thanks for tryin' ta cheer me up though!"

"To-by!" Signor Pirelli sang out desperately, "An add break! NOW!"

"Wot about the food?" Mrs Lovett said, circling Pirelli indignantly. "You promised us nibbles an' wot not."

"_Si, si,_ whatever you want," Pirelli said dismissively, ducking underneath his host stand. Which was rather pointless, since his giant frame couldn't be hidden.

"We can still see you, ya know," Mrs Lovett sang out.

"Toby you little shit," Pirelli hissed behind the host stand, "where's me tonic?" His Italian accent disappeared now that the cameras weren't rolling.

"Comin' sir," Toby said, bending down to wipe Pirelli's brow and hand him a bottle of Gin.

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	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Apologies for the late update! I was up to my arm pits in my final essays for uni this term and this is the first break I've had today! By the way, if you are offended by my fictional abuse of pussy cats, READ NO FURTHER. It pisses me off when people take the moral high ground with fiction. People, this is Sweeney Todd. If you get offended easily by the sight of blood, bones, murder and general human depravity, you shouldn't be reading Sweeneyverse.. Scarecrow: this is for you. =p_

"An' welcome back to Mrs Lovett's Dating Game," Mrs Lovett said, curtseying before the crowd. "Greetin's all you viewas! Would ya look at me now, Mooney, you old 'ag!"

Back at their dingy apartment, Mrs Mooney was thoroughly annoyed. She opened a can of boiled cat eyes, and downed it three swift gulps. "I'll kill ya!" She screamed at the tiny TV screen Mrs Lovett. "Just you wait – when ya get 'ome, I'll kill ya!"

Back in TV land -

"It seems Pirelli's a bit tied up at the moment," Mrs Lovett continued, "so wot say we get down ta business?" She nodded at the camera crew and they zoomed into a close-up shot of her excited face. "Bachelor no 3," said Mrs Lovett, reading slowly from the cards, "where do ya wanna take me?"

There was silence and then that gravelly voice answered: 'To the grave."

Mrs Lovett cocked her head to the side, and after a moment's puzzlement, broke into a cheery smile. "'Ow continental! Wot a romantic treat, 'avin' a picnic in a graveyard. A true connasure of fine ideas, you is, bachela no. 3!"

"e' didn't say that!" Toby piped up from the host stand.

Signor Pirelli also came out form behind the host stand, eager to regain control of his show. "Bambino, quiet! Let the signora dream a what she wishes!" He swayed slightly to the right, winking at his audience.

"But that ain't fair!" Toby shot back. "She ought ter know th' truth!"

"Wot truth?" Mrs Lovett swivelled around in her throne-chair.

"How charmingly exquisite you are, signora!" Pirelli cried. "Perdon a me," he said, grabbing Toby by the ear and dragging him off stage. Once Toby had been gagged and tied up behind the curtain, Pirelli returned on stage. "Signora," he began, taking her by the elbow. "You must a take your seat! Here are the new a questions." He pressed a new set of cue cards in her hands.

Mrs Lovett rolled her eyes. "I dunno 'bout you lot," she said to the audience, "but I'm gettin' awful sick of Mr I-talian fancy-pants runnin' the show. Big ol' kill-joy, 'e is!" She tore up the cue-cards, and leapt off the throne.

The audience cheered, and began to chant: "LOVETT! LOVETT! LOVETT!"

"What is this?" Signor Pirelli stared.

"It appears," came the smooth, silky voice of Bachelor no 1. from behind the curtain, "that you sir, have been outvoted."

Signor Pirelli was momentarily speechless. "By this urchin-creature! Impossible! As you see the a sign it reads "_Signor Pirelli's Dating Game Show"_ See? Si!"

Suddenly someone in the audience pelted Pirelli with rotten, mashed up bananas. "Eeeeeek!" Pirelli screeched. He ducked behind the throne as another assault of foul fruit catapulted on stage.

"Bet ya didn't see that one comin'!" Mrs Lovett smirked. "O'right, wot you say we shake things up a little?"

Cheers erupted from the audience. Pirelli was too traumatised to move from behind the throne.

"Excuse Madam," said Bachelor no 1 silkily, "but I think it prudent if we knew a little information in regards to yourself."

"I dun follow ya."

"If, perhaps, _we _might ask _you _some questions?"

"Well, s'not strictly in th' rules is it, but I s'pose, wot's good for the gander is good for the goose."

"Yes, _indeed._ May I begin?"

Mrs Lovett nodded, but she was really wondering why Bachelor 3 was as bleedin' silent as a chimney stuffed with soot.

"Madam," Bachelor no 1. coughed, "where do you live?"

Mrs Lovett reddened. "I, ah, I um, _I live in a castle," _she blurted out. She just die if a fine-soundin' bachelor like him caught a glimpse of her and Mrs Mooney sittin' by the telly in their rags, chewin' on bones.

"Very well," the voice continued sceptically, "what is your profession?"

"I….."

"Ha!" Mrs Mooney shrieked at the TV. "You're done for now, you soddin' cow!"

"I…..I'm a clothes designer. For the rich. _See_," Mrs Lovett said proudly, "I designed this beauty meself." She gave a twirl in her deep crimson dress.

"How unfortunate I am unable to see your splendid self," Bachelor no. 1 purred.

"It's me turn now," said Bachelor no 2. "Wot do ya like to eat?"

Eat. Eat. Wot do I like to eat? Come on Nellie think, _think! _"_Cats_," Mrs Lovett blurted out unthinkingly.

The whole audience dissolved into retching noises and general disgust.

"Wot- wot I _mean_ is I eat pies in the _shape_ of cats!" Mrs Lovett had meant to mention some rare, delicate dish but all she could think of was trying to _hide_ the fact from her audience that her daily dinner consisted of skinned, crunched up pussy cat. _Whoops. _

"You Madam," came the voice of Bachelor no. 1 from behind the curtain, "_disgust_ me. Of all the vile, cretin-like behaviours – to skin a helpless, defenceless creature and devour it for your own foul pleasure. You are _beyond_ redemption. You will never be received by society again. And when you die, your soul will fly to the very pits of hell!"

"Here, here!" Mrs Mooney cheered, getting up on her couch and dancing a jig. Then she realised she had a half-gnawed on cat bone still in her hand, and threw it angrily at the TV. "Well if 'e saw me pretty face, tha' sexy bachelor no 1. wouldn't be too fussy about me meals, cats or none."

"I've 'ad enuf of this!" Mrs Lovett snapped. "Who are you ta lectcha me? Eatin' cats ain't no crime, not when it's all I can afford. 'Ow's about you bleedin' _gentlemen_ come out from behind tha' curtain so's we can take a good look at youse?"

"A fine idea Madam," said Bachelor no 2 excitedly. There was a sound of clattering chairs and the curtain rustled.

"Wait!" Bachelor no 1 began: "How can this woman be trusted? She does, after all, consume cats."

Bachelor no 2 snivelled. "Huh? Wot? Are you mad?! She's a _woman_ sir, who cares! None of 'em can be trusted!" They began to whisper together.

Mrs Lovett narrowed her eyebrows. _Up the sound, _she mouthed to the sound crew.

"I mean," continued bachelor no 2, his voice echoing loudly into the audience, "it's not as if you're plannin' ta marry 'er! Who wants ta waste money on cheap meat when we only 'afta say some sweet nothin's in 'er ear an' she'll follow ya inta some dark alleyway –"

Mrs Lovett stormed up to the curtain and yanked it aside. "Right! Which one of youse said that!"

"He did!" Bachelor no 1 and 2 both pointed at each other. But she wasn't watching them. Mrs Lovett was staring at bachelor no 3, sitting morbidly by himself in his chair. Never, she swore, never had she seen anything so beautiful in her life.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: SORRY for this pathetically late update. But it's finally HERE. Thanks to the following reviewers: Nala 162024, Midna Hytwilian, Obscure Bird, 123ClapClap, , NelliethePieAngel, AngelofDarkness1605, Scarves, Ravencaller and Obssessive Freak. You guys have the craziest names! I lovett =D Oh, just in case you haven't guessed yet: **

**Bachelor No 1= Judge Turpin**

**Bachelor No 2= Beadle Bamford**

**Bachelor No 3=Sweeney Todd**

**Am I safe in saying you're all going to vote for Sweeney? =DD**

**~Signor Pirelli's Dating Game~**

"Ain't 'e _bootiful_," Mrs Lovett said, completely transfixed by the brooding man in the chair. She pushed past Bachelors no.1 and 2. and went straight up to him.

"Just the picture perfect gentlemun," sighed Mrs Lovett.

But the man either didn't, or pretended not to hear. He took out a pair of shiny chase silver razors, and began to polish them lovingly.

_Well, if he can do _that_ with just a pair o' razors, _thought Mrs Lovett. I'd better introduce meself quick smart, 'fore one 'em otha floozies snatches him up.

"Hallo," Mrs Lovett said, bounding up to Sweeney with a large smile on her face. "You is Bachela numba 3, isn't you? Wot's ya name, dearie?"

"Todd," said the man, smiling to himself viciously, "the name's Sweeney Todd."

"Well, Mr Todd," Mrs Lovett began.

At the sound of the feminine voice, Sweeney stopped polishing. _"Lucy?"_ he whispered, looking through her.

Mrs Lovett had no idea what he was on about. She put her hands on her hips. "Does I look like a Lucy to you?"

The man stared at her for the first time. Red curls, red dress, red lips. The woman was mad, odd and slightly nymphomaniac, he thought. Altogether not displeasing. But _not _his Lucy. "Do you know…where _Lucy_ is?"

"Sorry love," said Mrs Lovett, shaking her head. "But I'm Nellie Lovett, if you please Mr...can I call you Mr T?"

"I'm LUCY!" cried out a woman from the audience. She stumbled, half-drunk and brain addled, up the stage stairs.

"So that's where the fish smell wos comin' from," said Mrs Lovett. She wrinkled her nose as Lucy came to stand between them.

_"Lucy?"_ Sweeney, staring down at the swaying woman.

"Who's Lucy?" She shrieked, doing star jumps across the stage.

Sweeney seized her, lifting her up by her throat. Her hair fell of her face, exposing a pale, aged face. "Those eyes….it is you! Lucy! It's _me_, Ben."

"Ben Ben Den Men Ten oop-dee-doop-doop!" Lucy sang, slapping her hands on her knees.

"Lucy," said Sweeney/Benjamin as calmly as possible, "_don't you remember me? Who we were together?"_

Lucy screwed up her face. "'Course sir. Bennie Ben Ben."

_She remembered! _Sweeney's face brightened.

Until Lucy began to sing: _"We are the Earth Intruders! We are the Paratroopers! Some beat of sharp shooters! Come straight from VOO-DOO-OOOOOOO!"_

"Get her off!" shrieked Sweeney, his eyes black with rage. This _couldn't be Lucy. Lucy was DEAD._ "Get her OFF THE STAGE!"

"Come on love, come now," Mrs Lovett said, putting her arms around Lucy. As soon as they were behind curtains, however, Mrs Lovett dropped her arm. "Don't come back you straggly mop!" With one firm shove, Mrs Lovett pushed her down the stairs. "SECURITY!" Mrs Lovett screeched. "Paramedics! We gotta a woman injured down 'ere!"

A short while later, after it was officially confirmed the random beggar woman was dead, Mrs Lovett reappeared on stage. "Well," said Mrs Lovett cheerfully, dusting her hands together. "Now that's ova an' done wif." She never really liked the name Lucy anyway.

"Is everything alright, madam?" said Bachelor no 1., appearing in front of her suddenly. "You are quite safe now that I've rid you of that slimy, unsavoury bachelor no 2."

"Who?" Mrs Lovett knitted her brows, staring past the man to see what Sweeney Todd was doing.

"The Beadle, his name was I believe," said bachelor No. 1, still staring at her. He didn't seem to need to blink, like other human beings. "I know we perhaps…got off to the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the one and only Judge Turpin, eminent arm of the Law."

Mrs Lovett curtsied, raising a brow. "And I's the Queen o' England."

He wasn't bad looking, Mrs Lovett evaluated. But there was something creepily intense in his expression…and the manner in which his eyes kept travelling to her chest had her on the defensive.

"Please," he said, getting down on one knee and kissing her hand seductively. "You must permit me to tell you how radiantly beautiful you are."

"I permit ya," Mrs Lovett said briefly. 'Now, is that all?" She hadn't forgotten him dressing her down about her cat-eating habits.

"I am afraid not, dear Lady," said the Judge, getting to his feet so that he towered over her. "Do not be alarmed….when I tell you that _I am in love with you_. Now, if you'll follow me tonight, you will never forget the name Judge Turpin," he finished, drawing her to his side and attempting to lead her down the stage stairs.

"Hold ya trousers," Mrs Lovett said, yanking her hand away. "I ain't ya personal property, for starters. And ya can take you an' that _filth," _she said, jerking her head at the beadle lingering by the exit sign, "an' find yourself someone else more accommodatin' to ya wishes."

"I think, Madam," said the Judge dangerously, stepping forward with an ominous face, "you have overstepped the mark. _Come_ with me, and I will forget you were rude this moment."

"Too bad," Mrs Lovett pouted. "I've already chosen me 'eart's desire. Bachelor number Three!"

"You will sorely regret that decision, Madam," said the Judge, his face draining of all colour.

"Sir," said Sweeney Todd suddenly, stepping between them. "You will leave this show, and let the lady be in peace."

"I will _not _sir. You had better know your place – "

_WHOMP!_

Yes, _WHOMP_ was the only fitting expression for what happened to Judge Turpin.

Sweeney Todd wasn't the best-tempered man alive, and something in the Judge's manner made him snap. He'd picked up one of the chairs on stage, carried it over and belted it across Judge Turpin's head.

It didn't kill him, of course. That wouldn't be right, at least, not on national television. But it was enough to knock Turpin senseless.

"SWEENEY! SWEENEY! SWEENEY!" came the roar from the crowd.

"What's that sound?" Sweeney said, looking about in confusion.

"It's your adoring public, Mr T," said Mrs Lovett, pointing at the audience. "They love ya."

"I've never been….adored before," said Sweeney strangely. "At least…not as Sweeney Todd."

"I adore ya Mr T," Mrs Lovett said, throwing her arms about his neck.

Sweeney Todd didn't say anything. He was contemplating the unconscious man on the ground and what he would do to him.

Mrs Lovett had other ideas. "If we is to be goin' steady," she said, looking up at him with adoring eyes, "I think it's me right to ask you a few questions, ya know, so's I can getta know you betta."

"Goin' steady?" Sweeney looked at her strangely.

"I mean – 'avin' a date togetha, wot's all," Mrs Lovett said rather quickly.

"Oh. What is it Mrs Lovett?"

"I need ya to be 'onest wif me." Mrs Lovett took a deep breath. "Wot do you…._do_ in ya spare time, mmm?"

"I like to….cut things," Sweeney whispered, slightly embarrassed.

"Awww love, that's charmin' that is!"

"Are you lying, Mrs Lovett ?" Sweeney felt himself grow hot and bothered. If there was one thing he hated as much as Judges, it was liars!

"No love, not at all," Mrs Lovett soothed, stroking his hand like he was her pet snake. "I'm deadly serious, I is. I 'appen to agree wif you, wot's all. There's nofin' betta, I find, than wakin' up in the mornin' an' catchin' one of 'em bleedin' stupid pussies an' bashin' 'em ova the 'ead until they is dead!"

Mrs Lovett panted, quite out of breath. "Guess you know quite enuf about me, then," she laughed nervously."

"On the contrary," Sweeney said, finding himself warming up the baker now that they had a common subject of interest. "I think all cats deserve throttling, myself."

"An' wot gets you in a good mood, eh? Good food, nice music? A nice jazz band?" Mrs Lovett raised her skirt and crossed her legs like child, letting Sweeney as well as the rest of the audience get a view of her bright bloomers and striped stockings.

"Good mood?" Sweeney stared at her, thoroughly baffled. His eyes briefly darted down at her stockings.

Mrs Lovett sighed. "Come an' sit beside me love. Let me explain."

Sweeney obeyed.

"A good mood is like…" Mrs Lovett slapped her hand on his knee affectionately. 'It's like when ya blowin' bubbles in the park, an' the birdies is chirpin' an' then you see a rainbow and think to yerself…oooooh I wonder if there's a leprocorn an' a pot o' gold at the end."

Sweeney was now staring at the woman as if she'd put too much laudanum in her porridge. He knew Lucy used to, and sometimes she'd start going on about rainbows too. "I don't think I follow you Mrs Lovett."

"Neve mind love," she said, pushing herself up with her hands. Sweeney copied. "I think I've figured out wot gets you in the mood."

"Wait mum," said Toby, dashing out from behind the curtains.

Somehow, he'd managed to untie himself from Signor Pirelli's ropes. "You best take a step back! I dun think it's safe. I checked out 'is history. He's a dirty rotten apple, that Mr Todd."

"Hush now love," said Mrs Lovett sweetly but dangerously. "You'll end up in Bedlam tellin' nasty stories 'bout people – "

But Toby, being Toby, just didn't know when to quit while he was ahead. "Ain't you hear wot I says? He's no good mum. He's one of 'em convicts transported for life – "

"Oopsy daises!" Mrs Lovett happened to have a left over cat bone sitting in the pocket of her fancy outfit, and just as Toby was coming up the rear our beloved baker tossed it straight in his path.

"Yahhh!" That was the sound Toby made as he hit the deck.

"Securrrrrrity!" Mrs Lovett screeched, clutching Sweeney by the arm as if she really was concerned. "We got a broken boy stage left! Call the parademics!"

"Right you are ma'am," said the parademics, who dashed on and off stage in under sixty seconds, bearing the beat-up Toby away on a stretcher.

"I tells you mum, he's armed with RAZORS!" was the last thing Toby wailed before he went off air.

"Well of course 'e 'as razors," Mrs Lovett said crossly. "He's a barba, ain't 'e?"

Mrs Lovett didn't waste anymore time. She ran, or rather _skipped,_ back to Sweeney, who was now pacing up and down the stage.

"You I think you is 'andsome, ya know, Mr Todd," Mrs Lovett said, bravely snatching a kiss on his cheek.

To her surprise, Sweeney stopped pacing, and looked at her. "What should do we do with the Judge?"

"Oh, _'im._ We got all episode love. Worry 'bout 'im afta. Audience loves good suspense, memba?"

"We could cut him up into sixty-two pieces," Sweeney continued. "Sixty two is my favourite number." He held his razors up to the light. "No, I believe he'd enjoy that too much. What say, Mrs Lovett, you run a bath of hot oil, and we let him sizzle there until his skin peels off?" Sweeney fixed his new accomplice with a warm smile. Either that, or he was smiling at his razors.

"Now Mr T," Mrs Lovett said calmly, "no need ta be gettin' all excited. After all, this is Signor Pirelli's _Dating _Game Show, not Sweeney Todd's _Torture_ Program. We got plenty time for devious actions later."

The sort of devious actions Mrs Lovett was thinking of, however, were quite different to Sweeney Todd's.

"_Sweeney Todd's Torture Program_. What an _ingenious_ idea, Mrs Lovett. How I've lived without you all these years….I'm sure I'll never know."

"Well Mr T," said Mrs Lovett, blushing from head to foot, "when a girl spends a lot of nights by the TV, skinning cat meals for one, she 'as plenty time to think."

"TRAITOR!" Mrs Mooney shrieked from her dingy apartment. "They wos MEALS FOR TWO, you skulkin' female - "

Not another word came from Mrs Mooney. All the excitement had caused her pass out in a dead faint, right in the middle of her living room.

But back in TV land -

Sweeney took Mrs Lovett by the hand, and spun her round the stage. "Let's waste no more time. I think we should propose it to the producers immediately."

"Wot?" Mrs Lovett was beginning to feel giddy from all the attention. "You really think all these people'll come to watch you torture poor 'elpless souls extremely painful ways?"

"Certainly," said Sweeney, twirling her and bending her in a low dip. "The Romans had the gladiators, _my pet_."

Neither of them seemed particularly bothered by all the audience members watching them. They were transfixed by each other.

"Mr T?"

"Yes?"

"I reckon it's a bloomin' smashin' idea. 'Oweva, I have one condition 'fore I agree."

"Which is?" He led her to the throne, and she sat down, her hand resting on top of his.

"I get ta be ya loyal assistant on the show."

"I wouldn't dream of anything else," said Sweeney.

After fifteen years, Sweeney had never thought he'd discover someone as sick and twisted as himself. Now that he had, there was _no chance_ he was ever going to let her escape.

*** * ***

**I'm not sure whether to make this the final chap. Let me know what you want in your reviews!**

**Kudos to Midna Hytwilian for the latest add:**

**WE INTERRUPT THIS HEART-PUMPING PROGRAM TO BRING YOU THE LATEST IN THRILLING ADVERTISEMENTS:**

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**Brought to you by Mrs Lovett, Mr Todd's close personal assistant and host of the brand new _Sweeney Todd Torture Program._**


	5. Chapter 5

**GREETINGS!**

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, alerts, favs and wicked, madcap suggestions!

Just so you know….all your ideas are going into the sequel, as promised –

**_Sweeney Todd's Torture Program_**

I'm too lazy to reply to you all, but you know you're loved….so……

_If you're looking for the sequel,_

_I promise there's no equal,_

_It's better than Pirelli,_

_It's the latest form of Telle,_

_So ladies an' gentlemen get in line,_

_Let Sweeney's madness chill your spine_

_A brand new chapter awaits you now,_

_I blow you a kiss, and give you a bow,_

_Now that I've told you, you already know,_

_The first chapter is up for Sweeney's Torture Show!_

And of course, thanks to the all those who reviewed chapter four:

**NightsWeCantRemember**

**JDLuvaSQEE**

**Commoner's Coffee**

**Midna Hytwilian**

**LazyCatfish27**

**Obscure Bird**

**Martin Baker**

**AngelofDarkness1605**

**NelliethePieAngel**

**XxRazorPiexX**

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**Ravencaller**

**DarkDreamer97**

_See you all soon!_

_XxXx_


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